The Work of Byron Katie

Yes, the sky is falling and it has been falling all day, in sheets of rain and wind to whip them up. There is water everywhere and I can’t even begin to tell you what a walk with the dogs looks like. It is days like this (and I haven’t seen many) that I rue having dogs and wish I had a small covered terrace where they were used to peeing when not able to go out.

The sky is falling and both my doggies came in sopping wet and had to be dried off with a towel which in turn merited a doggie treat in Salomé’s consideration which meant that Loli had to get one too, although a smaller one naturally. And it has been one of those days, or should I say weeks?

Having two dogs instead of one, albeit twice the size, has taken its toll and after three days my back felt as if someone had taken to beating on it when I was asleep. I did two things which in combination only caused a more serious problem. One was begin to take large doses of Ibuprofen for the muscular contraction on my back (with meals naturally) and the other was worry myself sick that my back would not be all right for my granddaughter’s visit and our trip together across the top of Spain. This deadly combination not only produced an ulcer in my stomach, but also made it bleed, something I discovered yesterday morning and which scared me half to death. I actually found myself in somewhat of a panic yesterday afternoon and acting like a five-year-old: running down to the car determined to drive the hour to San Sebastian and an emergency clinic; racing back up the stairs terrified of what they would do to me in the clinic and where I could keep my dogs in the meantime; calling the local doctor and then refusing the appointment he offered me at 6:45 a.m. today because there was no way he could fit me into his schedule yesterday at 6pm. Up and down, up and down, somewhat like Chicken Little in a panic and believing with all my heart that my sky –at least- was falling.

Finally, I sat down on the chair I had pulled out for my exercise session which I hadn’t done, supposedly to go to the doctor’s, and I stopped, stopped everything but breathing and being present. I recognized the terrified little girl who just wanted to curl up under the table and cry, and I breathed into the place she was hiding inside me. A few breaths and the belief popped up: I don’t know what to do… and I felt the panic. After all, when you are five years old and something terrible is happening –like your parents are fighting or there is a thunder and lightning storm outside- and you don’t know what to do, the projection is that surely you will die.

Fortunately, there is someone who has grown up inside me too and she stepped forward and took hold of the child: “You don’t know what to do, is that true?” I waited, breathing deeply. “You don’t know what to do, can you absolutely know that is true, that you don’t know what to do?” The child inside heard the kind voice and seemed to settle a bit: a “No, not true” came up.

So: “How do you react, what happens when you believe the thought that you don’t know what to do?” It was clear as day: fearful, helpless, wanting someone to come and rescue me; mind confused, muddled thinking, seeing everything –every possible avenue of help- as threatening; unable to act or move. Paralyzed.

And “Who would you be in this same situation without the thought that you don’t know what to do?” I took a breath and went back inside. Without the thought, stillness crept in, the body relaxed, the anguish vanished: just me, sitting in chair, doing my Work.

Turn it around: “I do know what to do.” I sat and waited and the answer washed over me like a balm. I picked up the phone and redialled the doctor to say I would be there the following morning. Peace descended and I simply made myself my dinner, walked my dogs and went to bed.

Now –as the sky continues to fall- I hear the sirens of the fire truck rushing to aid some victim of the deluge. I wonder if they are called for a tree that has fallen on a roof or a house that has flooded. A few moments later I hear voices outside, two stories below my window. I look out: the fire truck has come to our building. It seems the downstairs apartments (that are actually half a floor beneath ground level and have a small outdoors terrace, have flooded. Their occupants are all outside in the rain, wondering what to do, how to save their belongings, where they will spend the night and how soon the insurance will fix their abode. I am safe and warm on the second floor, high above the water, although the storage room I have on the lower level is flooded and all the cardboard boxes I have stored there are soaked including one that holds all my diaries of the last 26 years: natural disasters come to show us what we didn’t need.

Finally, as the rain seems to wane a bit, I take the reluctant dogs out for a last pee or poo. We discover that the road behind the building and the adjoining vineyard are completely flooded. It seems that the sky has fallen tonight. Unfortunately, rain is predicted until 7am tomorrow morning with the worst of the storm expected at midnight. I have offered a neighbour my extra bed if he wants it, but it seems he prefers to sleep in his car. Loli is all curled up in her basket asleep while Salomé seemed to think something special was going on and she could jump into my bed with her wet feet and head. I was sorry to tell her that, even on nights when the sky falls, she has her bed and I have mine.

Yesterday, a young woman (I’ll call her Mary), with whom I had worked previously, called asking if she could speak with me about a serious matter. Mary is a teacher, and I listened as she related how another woman teacher, who “had it in for her”, had tried to tell her how to run her class and had ended up turning the students and the director against her. Continue reading →

By accident I read the letter you so kindly sent for me to forward to a loved one. As it happened, you only mentioned at the end of the letter that I was to send it on and that it wasn’t meant for me (although from the addressing of the recipient as “My Dearest Heart” I should have guessed that it was not really from a secret admirer). Continue reading →